


Together

by Cheeseydare



Series: Reign [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: An Actual Conversation, Cause I'm Sorry but that's Dumb, Episode: s08e04 Fix-It, Even Though They're Not that Closely Related for this Universe, F/M, Incest is Wincest I suppose, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, More !BookJon in Both Appearance and Temperament, Since that's His Entire Arc, Targaryen Unity, The smut that was promised, Vague Reference to Jon Killing the Night King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeseydare/pseuds/Cheeseydare
Summary: Jon, Daenerys, and the conversation that changes everything.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Reign [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631986
Comments: 30
Kudos: 177





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about it and I'm still not over Season 8. So I wrote my own version of the scene after the victory feast as catharsis. That goddamn silhouette of them in front of the fire could have been the tipping point for our fav power couple to reconnect and conquer. So I, like many others, made it that. Also, callbacks the way they were supposed to be used.

The room was too warm, almost stifling. Packed full of people celebrating the fact that they were still alive. Men and women of all ages indulging in reckless merriment, feasting and drinking as though the morrow would not arrive. But through it all, he could still see her.

Jon tried to make his way over, but he was constantly waylaid, by someone or other wanting to thank _him_ , toast _him_. He tried to make them see sense, to understand the only reason any of it was possible was _her,_ but to no avail.

Finally, he made it to the high table, almost to his goal. Jon could feel Daenerys’ violet eyes watching him. A large fur-clad figure appeared before him, dull greys offset by his wild hair like so much fire. A strong arm pulled him from his path, sloshing a drink about without care.

Tormund’s booming voice made him wince as the man yelled about him climbing and riding a dragon, about being mad for attempting such a thing, and even more so for killing the Night King. He felt his stomach drop out as Tormund shouted about him being a king. Jon shook his head and looked to see her watching him, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Queen Daenerys raised them and rode them long before I did,” Jon said. Tormund blinked at him owlishly before letting out a loud laugh and stomping his way over to her. The large man hauled her from her chair and lifted his horn.

“To the Dragon Queen! Without her, we’d all be icy dead fuckers!” he shouted, an arm wrapped about her shoulders to shake her lightly.

Everyone was so deep in their cups they would have toasted to anything and a resounding cheer rung off the rafters. Jon gave her a smile, which she tentatively returned. Daenerys watched on amusedly as Tormund spilled more of his drink down himself than in his mouth before stumbling off.

Another voice, someone new wishing to offer thanks to him distracted him. When Jon turned back to look at her, he could only just see her elaborate braids as they slipped around a corner to leave the Great Hall. He brusquely thanked the man and stalked after her, pointedly ignoring the look Sansa was giving him. There were things he needed to do and he couldn’t afford petty distractions.

The halls were mostly empty, though he did overhear the sounds of frantic coupling behind a few doors and down other paths. There was nothing quite like surviving an army of dead men to make one appreciate the simple pleasures in life, he supposed. Those musings carried him to the door he sought, behind which lay what he hoped to be his future.

He rapped on the door and waited for her quiet command to enter, closing the door solidly behind him. Jon turned to find her stood beside a lit hearth, looking somehow more ethereal and breathtaking than she normally did and he needed to steady his breathing.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said quietly. He met her gaze before she turned back to the flames.

“We’ve both been busy,” she replied. He snorted, unable to stop his reaction. There was a tension between them that he didn’t like and his patience for word games had long run out.

“We need to talk,” he said firmly.

“What is there left to say?” she asked softly. “I’ve given so much and yet it never seems to be enough.”

Jon gaped at her for a moment before striding across the space to stand in front of her. Her eyes widened as he gently cupped her cheeks and forced her to look at him.

“What in all the hells are you talking about?” he demanded roughly, eyes narrowed.

“You. You’re everything I willed myself not to want and I can’t have you because you don’t need me. You’ve a better claim to the throne and a dragon of your own, and now you can’t even stand to look at me,” she said bitingly.

Daenerys glared at him, both of them refusing to look away. He could feel himself trembling with pent up energy, willing himself to be calm. He wasn’t a bloody poet, but it seemed he would need his words more than ever.

“You know, for being such a brilliant woman, sometimes I can’t believe how wrong you are,” he replied. She tried to shove him away but he slipped his hands to her hips, holding her close. “I need you to listen to me, to everything I have to say. Please?”

Her glare didn’t lessen but she also didn’t try to shove him away again, which seemed like progress.

“Did I need some time to figure myself out after I learned about my parents? Aye, I did. Imagine being told all your life that one thing is true, when everything else around you is being unraveled, only to learn that the truth you clung to so desperately was a lie. The only thing I knew was that I was Lord Stark’s bastard, and I lived my entire life trying to atone for a crime that wasn’t even mine. All my life, all I wanted was for people to look at Lord Stark’s bastard and say he was an honorable man.

“But I’m not. I’m not his bastard, I’m not his mistake. I’m the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, two people who loved each other so much, they let the Realm burn around them for it. For me,” he paused, needing a deep breath to fight the tears at the thought of his parents. Daenerys’ gently cupped his cheeks and he forced his eyes open to meet hers.

“You’re scared,” she whispered, stunned at the revelation. And he truly was, only slightly less than when he had faced the Night King.

“You say I don’t need you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t know how to be a Targaryen, Dany, but I want to. They said my father was the ‘Last Dragon,’ but they were wrong. You, me, Drogon, and Rhaegal, we’re the last of our House,” he paused for a moment, words from so long ago, from a member of their hidden family coming to him, and he chuckled. “Maester Aemon once told me that ‘love is the death of duty.’ But it’s not for me, not with you.

“You’re my aunt, my Queen, and the woman I love, Dany. Blood, loyalty, and love, what three higher callings are there than those? How could I not need you in my life? Everyone else can fuck off, because I’m going to hang onto the little bit of happiness I’ve managed to find in an otherwise shit life. I love you and I’m not ashamed to say it,” he said.

Daenerys watched, her eyes flickering between his for long moments. She stepped closer, molding herself to him and leaned up, lips a hairsbreadth from his own.

“Show me, Jaeron.”

Three words was all it took for Jon to lose himself. The lust and the love in her voice, the way his name, his _true_ name, sounded on her lips, unleashed the pent up emotion of the past few days.

Their lips met in a tangle of teeth and tongue, rough and demanding. Neither willing to relent, hands grasped at clothes, undoing buckles and clasps, frantically searching for skin. The sound of his sword belt clanking against the floorboards was nearly drowned out by his ripping of her coat.

She gasped and bit his lip, drawing a growl from him. Rough, calloused hands found her breasts, ghosting over and then tweaking her nipples, bringing them to proud points as he had so many times before. Her hands raked through his hair, tearing the binding loose to let his dark brown locks fall free, only to be gathered in strong fistfuls and tugged.

Jon walked her back to the bed, roughly pushing her onto the gathered furs. Daenerys smirked at him and shimmied off her boots and leather leggings. She coyly kept her legs closed and poked his chest with her foot.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, _nephew._ Your Queen requires you naked before you can touch her,” she said, violet eyes darkened with lust.

Jon tugged off his gambeson and shucked his boots and trousers as fast as he could while still staring at the goddess before him. His cock jutted forward proudly and twitched when Dany moaned softly and bit her lip as she looked at him. He grasped both her ankles and pushed her legs open, her knees near her shoulders.

He knelt beside the bed and pressed kisses up the inside of her right leg, skipping over her core to trail back down her left. She squirmed beneath him and canted her hips upward in offering. The scent of her slick and the sight of her opening for him, pink and wet, broke his resolve to tease her.

“Hold yourself open for me, love,” he said. Dany grabbed her legs so he could have his hands free.

One hand pried her open, revealing her to his eyes. His lips closed around her nub, his tongue and teeth causing her to gasp and shake beneath him. The taste of her was as sharp and addictive as it had been the first time, and every time, he had worshipped her like this.

Two fingers slipped into her tight heat, bypassing gentle easing and going for a rough and quick release. He needed to make her feel his devotion, to bring her pleasure. A third finger was added and he hooked each of them to drag along the top wall of her cunt.

Strong swipes of his tongue and gentle presses of his teeth to her nub paired with his hand brought her first climax in quick order, his name tumbling from her perfect mouth. Jon was sure there had never been a prettier sight than this beautiful, fierce woman falling apart from his attentions. Sweaty, flushed, and disheveled, her loving look was worth more than anything in the world as he rested between her legs.

He set about building up her next climax slowly, easing his tongue away from her. Daenerys’ hands gripped his hair harshly as she whined and begged for him to sup on her cunt. Jaeron smirked at her, allowing his pride and ego to be inflated with her words. It was a new feeling for him, but she made him believe her words of praise.

“You’re so wet and ready for me, Dany. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock,” he said. She moaned and dropped her head back against the bed as he resumed his attentions upon her nub with his tongue.

Daenerys grinded herself against his face, his name echoing around the chamber in a continuous chant. Her second peak was violent, a spray of her liquids covering his mouth and chin, every muscle in her seizing up as her mouth opened in a wordless scream. Jon slowed his fingers and removed his mouth from her cunt to allow her time to recover, awed that this woman was his.

“I need you, Jaeron, please. I need you to fuck me, to feel you,” she murmured finally, lifting her head to look down at him blearily. He followed her urging and crawled further up and over her, settling between her legs in a comfortable and familiar manner.

Their lips meet in an unhurried tangle. Daenerys moaned as she tasted herself upon his tongue and Jon tenderly cupped her face with one hand. He would have happily spent the rest of his days lost in that moment, but she had other plans as she palmed his cock. Their lips broke apart as he gasped and tucked his head into the crook of her neck.

“Come, my king. I have need of you,” she whispered into his ear, placing feather light kisses against a spot just beneath it which sent shivers down his spine.

Needing no further encouragement, Jon aligned his cock with her entrance and slid forward in a single smooth motion. Both of them groaned as he bottomed out, their skin flush against each other. She was still so snug, fitting him perfectly no matter how many times he had her. Her legs and arms wrapped about him, nails scratching along his back and heels pushing him to fuck her faster.

“Gods, Dany, so fucking perfect,” he growled against her neck. She sunk her teeth into his shoulder in response, the sting of pain adding to his pleasure. Jon held himself up on one arm and slid the other down to press tight circles onto her nub.

Daenerys sank her nails like claws into his back as she arched under him. Violet eyes sank into grey as he filled her over and over again. The love and trust reflected back at him made his heart swell as he approached his own climax. That this beautiful and powerful woman had chosen him, wanted him, was still a wonder to him and he hoped he never took her for granted.

“Please, my love, I’m close, so close,” she panted, her plump lips parted in pleasure.

Jon was determined to make her peak once more, to show her the pleasure and love she deserved. The sound of his name, his true name, tumbling from her lips over and over again as he fucked her as fast as he possibly could filled his blood with fire. It felt right and safe, felt like where he belonged as she clamped around him in climax, her clenching cunt dragging him over the edge and filling her with his seed.

He stayed buried within her for as long as he could, carefully holding himself above her as they caught their breath. Daenerys pressed gentle kisses to his pulse which jumped beneath his skin. They both sighed when he finally slipped free and rolled to lay next to her, pulling her into his side to revel in the afterglow.

It was quiet as they caught their breath but finally, she shifted to half lay atop him so he could see her face clearly. Her fingers traced idle patterns against the hard planes of his chest. Jon softly cupped her face with one hand and Daenerys nuzzled into his palm, her lips quirking into a smile.

“You and me, nephew, together against the world, then?” she asked softly. He smiled back at her, overjoyed she understood and agreed with him. They needn't tear each other apart for no reason, not when they could unite.

“Aye, Dany. A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing, but we’re not alone now and we never will be, not as long as we have each other,” he replied, his voice gruff with emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

The blinding smile she gave at his words was the one he loved most, not of the Queen, the Mother of Dragons, or the Khaleesi, but of Dany, his Dany who reminisced about a house with a red door, and whose cheeks flushed after her second glass of wine, and who laughed at his awful humor. Jon loved this unguarded side of her as much as the indomitable leader she was to everyone else. The feel of her lips as she kissed the scar over his heart drew a sigh of contentment from him.

It wouldn’t be easy; gods knew he would have to start with his own family. _His other family_ , he mused. But they made each other better, happier, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect her. They were the last dragons and dragons were stronger together.


End file.
